Cursed
by SusanWho10
Summary: Sir Tristan, one of the bravest Knight of the Round Table, can't help his fondness of the servant that visits his chambers every morning. When events take a tragic turn, he finds himself torn between his loyalty to his king and his love for the girl. Ella's only wish is the king's death, but when a knight falls in love with her, she must choose between his love and her hatred.


Cursed

Their voices were coming from everywhere. It was a miracle he could hear anything over the ringing in his ears. The last time his heart was this agitated was when he saw her that first night… It felt like a lifetime ago. His legs moved mechanically, knowing when to run and when to leap. The branches whipped his naked arms, protecting the fragile body he was carrying.

He could still hear sharp screams in the distance as he ran, but the sound of his pursuer's treads had faded. The weight on his shoulders was getting heavier with every step; she's stopped breathing.

* * *

The morning light almost blinded Ella as she moved the splendid red drapes apart. The weather had been so wonderful all week, why did the sun decide to come out today? The servant moved to the bed, folded up the sheets and put them in her basket, getting ready to put up the freshly washed ones. Their color complimented the curtains. The remainder of the room, of course, also matched them perfectly. Everything was velvet red and adorned with gold. The whole castle was like that; something about the color of blood made the nobles feel powerful. After all this time working here, she thought she's be used to how bright and burnished everything seemed but it amazed her every day.

"A wonderful day isn't it?" the voice came from the door.

Ella straightened herself, turned around, and bowed, "Indeed sire, it is quite lovely."

The knight had a patient smile on his lips and a pained look in his eyes that people who didn't know him would have mistaken for pride. Sir Tristan was in full armor, just having come back from combat training with his fellow Knights of the Round Table and King Arthur himself. He would have looked glorious, a knight in shining armor, if not for the blotches of mud scattered all over his body and his messy turf of curly brown hair. She should have realized these were his chambers; the morning routine had been engraved in her head so she didn't have to think about what she was doing. Lowering her head as heat rose to her cheeks, she lifted her basket and bowed again, hurrying out the door as the knight moved out of the way.

This had been going on for a few weeks now: every time their eyes met, one of them would have to leave the room. They talked from time to time about meaningless things such as the weather and errands they had to run and she noticed him gazing at her several times. It was obvious, at least to Ella, that he cared for her, whether it was sparked by sympathy or by her appearance. She was short but thin and light for her age with waist length black hair that she habitually kept in a messy braid. Her eyes were of the deepest green and were always full of curiosity. Despite her healthy appearance, she had been week and prone to sickness ever since birth. The only reason she was allowed to work at the castle was that her late father once caught some horses from the royal stables that had gone loose.

But her allure wasn't the most unusual thing about her. The little servant girl had a far greater secret; like her mother, who died giving birth to her, she was a sorceress. Her name had been chosen to honor her mother's gift; Ella translated to beautiful fairy-woman. But not everybody thought of magic as a gift. In this wretched kingdom, her kind was slaughtered without mercy. If she were ever to be found out, nobody would think twice about putting her head under an axe.

_Which is why somebody should put an end to it, _she thought bitterly, _Arthur is no better than a coldblooded killed for what he does to my people._

Although she concealed her abhorrence for the king very well, she was counting down the days until she could act on it.

* * *

"I can't bear it any longer! How am I supposed to restrain myself when she looks at me that way?" Tristan muttered in frustration. He'd been pacing around his chambers since she left the room. Every day he saw see her and every day she seemed to become more beautiful. Every day she would walk from chamber to chamber and every day he would follow her with his eyes. He couldn't believe he'd allowed himself to fall in love with a servant of all people! It wasn't that he thought less of her because of her work; it was the fact that he was nobility.

For the first time in his life, this great knight adored by all felt as if the world had turned against him. He felt himself getting torn apart at the thought of having to choose between his noble life with his king by his side and the woman that bewitched his heart. All he could think about was meeting her.

As one of his servants was summoned down to bathe and clothe him, Tristan's thoughts kept going back to Ella. He would talk to her the next morning when she visited his room again.

That evening went by slowly and as the sun rose on a new day, Tristan patiently sat waiting for Ella.

Countless minutes passed until he finally saw her. She walked in without a sound, pulled the curtains apart, and started towards the bed. She stopped on her tracks the moment she saw him sitting there. He hopped off and quickly closed the door before she could get to it.

"You needn't run away," he said tenderly, "I only mean to talk to you".

She timidly took the seat he pulled for her and tried to avoid eye contact, "What about, my lord?" although she already knew the answer to her question.

He breathed in, "My feelings for you, sweet Ella".

At his words, her eyes shot up to look at him. There wasn't much talking after that, but when they met again, they did more than use words to communicate their emotions. Their meetings grew more frequent as the days passed and Tristan could feel himself falling more deeply in love with her every time their lips touched. He was so happy that any doubts or fears he may have had were erase from his mind. That was of course when everything started going wrong.

One day, as he came back to Camelot from a border patrol, he heard the alarm bells echoing. Somebody had tried to kill the king. Although stunned at the fact that somebody would try to harm Arthur, Tristan collected himself and hurried up the stairways to the king's chambers. He caught his breath and walked in. Arthur was in full armor, looking grim but very alive.

"Lord, what happened?" the knight asked urgently.

"One of the servants tried to poison me in my sleep! She would have succeeded if not for Gawain. She has been taken to the dungeon; catch up with the guard and make sure she gets to her cell," ordered the king.

When Tristan arrived, the guard had already placed her in one of the dank rooms and was going back to his original post. He could hear the prisoner crying. He followed the sobs to a set of bars behind which a girl was curled up. Her long black hair covered her face, but when she lifted her head to see who came, the reddened green eyes were Ella's. He didn't even need an explanation. She was innocent; somebody has made a mistake. With that thought, he left with a promise to get her out of that horrid place. As he got back to the Arthur's room, he repeated his plea in his head over and over again. A moment before he pushed the door, he heard his king speaking, "She will be burned at the stake for what she tried to do! That filthy servant girl…" Tristan didn't stay to hear the end of the sentence.

* * *

They had been running since they left Camelot. The moon was shining high in the sky and the cold wind burned their naked flesh. Her knight had come back to save her from the flames. It was almost easy getting out of the dungeon; the king thought his cells so perfect they didn't need any guards. At best, it would take until morning for anybody to notice her absence. Tristan pulled her along as they headed for the woods. As soon as they stopped, deep enough among the trees, Ella collapsed; the long run had been too much for her. Although also tired, her knight looked magnificent. He had taken his armor off and replaced it with clothes that, while loose, still managed to show off his muscular frame.

"We need to find somewhere warm to stay. Can you make a fire while I look?" he asked, worry in his eyes. She nodded and he helped her gather firewood. As he was leaving, she grabbed for stones to spark a fire with, but as soon as he was out of sight, she fixated her eyes on the pile of wood. Her eyes glowed golden and the flames erupted out of thin air.

Tristan was back before long. He found a camp not too far off. It was a small nomadic tribe that had set up for the night. The people were generous, kind, and didn't ask any unwanted questions. The runaways were glad to be at peace at last.

In the middle of the night, she woke up to Tristan shaking her urgently. People were running and shouting at each other. She didn't recognize some of them from earlier.

"Ella you need to go; find somewhere to hide," he said as he urged her away from the camp. The strangers had swords.

"I will not leave you!" she uttered through gritted teeth, escaping his grasp.

"O my love but you must. These people helped us in our time of need and I must repay them the favor, but I cannot have in harm's way."

Just as he finished his sentence, Ella eyes widened and she shrieked, "LOOK OUT!" With those words she threw herself between Tristan's unarmored body and a blade that struck her in the stomach.

* * *

Tristan's mind was a blur. His only thought was to protect her. He grabbed her delicate body and ran as fast and as far away from their attacker as he could. When he was completely sure there wasn't any more danger, he lay her down on a grassy patch. The wound wasn't as bad as he thought but her natural physical weakness made her more vulnerable to it. Her breathing had grown slower and slower as he ran and now he could barely see the slight movement of her chest.

_Please, please be alright, my sweet._

Her eyes fluttered and slowly opened as her lips formed a sweet smile. She lifted her feeble hand to his cheek and took her final breath.

The knight had no control whatsoever over his emotions. He slammed his fists against wood and rock until his knuckles bled, screamed until his lungs shattered, cried until he had no more tears. It was miracle his hysteria hadn't brought on any bandits. He forced himself to calm down, or at least the closest to calm as he could get. He knew who to blame. He knew what he had to do.

He buried his beloved and placed a flower on her final resting place.

The sun had barely risen when he reached the gates to Camelot. How his life had changed in only a day. He managed to sneak back into his chambers without being discovered and slip under the covers before any of his servants came to dress him. The day passed without his realizing it. The only thing on his mind was revenge. It was all that despicable man's fault.

He went through the chamber doors and stood there, waiting. He was good at waiting by now; waiting for Ella to accept his feelings, waiting for the time when he could meet her, waiting for her to finish her errands so they could enjoy each other's company, waiting for his grief to subdue so he could think about anything else but his shattered heart, and waiting until his king finally came through the doors. Arthur was surprised to find him there.

"What is your business with me, Sir Tristan?" he wondered.

"I have come to challenge you, sire," the broken man said it in a way that was emotionless and cruel at the same time. Although taken aback by his knight's words, Arthur slowly put his hand on the hilt of his sword. He was a knight before he was crowned king; he knew what an imminent fight looked like. And this one would be to death. Their blades clashed as their calculating minds decided on their next move. There was no sure winner in this battle for the king and his knight had trained on equal grounds and defeated enemies side by side. The only factor that gave one of them an advantage was Tristan's anger. It would have been Arthur's gain if it didn't make the knight's blows stronger. Both had been maimed but it was the last strike that declared the victor. The king was on his knees using both arms to push back Tristan's sword. Arthur's strength slowly drained out of him as he was shoved to the ground.

"I must only ask why Tristan," his loyal knight's betrayal brought fresh tears to his eyes, "why do you turn against me?"

Silently weeping, he replied, "You killed her, my lord," his voice the one of a shadow's, "we were forced to run because of you, and Ella… she died. I-I didn't even get t-to say… goodbye." As Tristan spoke his last word, he thrust his blade straight into his king's heart.

He was dimly aware of men seizing both his arms and hauling him down flights of stairs, of a bawling Guinevere choking on her own tears, and of an unnaturally gleaming sun that blinded him as he walked through an assembly of whispering people. That glorious knight in shining armor was now the empty shell of the man he used to be. Nothing mattered to him anymore. He stood up as straight as he could as somebody put a knot around his throat. No matter what happened, he would leave with his last bit of dignity. He looked around the crowd, registering the people's faces for the last time. That was when he saw the cloaked figure, small compared to those around it. They lifted their head just enough for Tristan to see the outline of their grin and their gleaming green eyes. And then… nothing. The knight's lifeless body was hanging from a rope.


End file.
